'I'm bored,' said Larry, as he sat before a large, free-standing mirror on the dining room table, plucking out the hairs between his eyebrows with a pair of tweezers he had found behind his right ear, when he had been searching for a pencil he was sure he had left there, only to realise that it no longer existed, due to the fact that he had sharpened it away to nothing, along with two-hundred-and-thirty-six other pencils, at the National Pencil Sharpening Tournament held at the N.E.C. in Birmingham last Wednesday, at which he had won third prize of a nice, shiny badge and a year's supply of pencils, which, in a pique of altruism, he had donated to the charity, Catteries in Need of Pencils, only to later regret it when he realised he had nothing to write with. 'Shall we defect?'
